03/30/20 Detention
I remember sitting in detention
when I was little
for one accident of imagination or another
often,
though I rarely went
preferring instead to jump a gate,
steal a book,
bounce a basketball in the park
by myself
dreaming
of when I would be rescued from the simple architecture
of failed dreamers,
sleeping in backseats of cars
without a care in my heart
when somewhere a bell rang
signaling another meeting
in the woods
where no one was allowed to look at the trees or talk back to the sun.
That’s what I remember about detention –
all the ways a mind has
to break free and travel